Dove in the Window by Earlene Fowler Page A

could stay awhile. He and Sandra broke up.”
    “What’s he doing here?”
    “I have no idea, but I imagine it has something to do with the fact that he lived here for so long, was happy here, had friends here.” I picked at the rough tree bark, avoiding his eyes. “I would think you would be a bit more understanding. You know how hard it is when people split up.” Gabe had himself gone through a divorce years before we’d met. I glanced up at his cynical face. It held no sympathy for my former brother-in-law.
    “He’s a flake,” he said. He folded his arms across his chest and spread his legs in that stubborn, macho way that always tempted me to whack him upside the head. “I don’t like it.”
    “That’s obvious, but there’s not much you can do about the situation, so I suggest you calm your raised hackles and live with it.”
    He glared at me. I smiled back in an attempt to soften my words. Gabe’s assessment of Wade was right. He did have problems with hanging out with the wrong people and getting into trouble. After Jack’s death, before we’d lost the Harper ranch, Wade had foolishly made a short career of delivering drugs in an effort to make some extra cash. He quit before he was caught, though his actions proved good judgment was not his strong suit. Gabe and I had never discussed the incident since it took place before we were actually together, though I’m sure he knew about it. But Wade and I had a history. He’d known me since I was a girl and I had loved his brother with the powerful, all-encompassing love that people experience as teenagers. Though I loved Gabe and respected his feelings, I couldn’t turn away Jack’s brother any more than I could one of my own relatives.
    I cupped my palms around the elbows of his crossed arms. “C‘mon, Friday, it’ll just be for a week or so. And I won’t even see him that much. He’ll be visiting old friends, and I’ve got a million things to do with the Heritage Days celebration and the art show. I’ll probably only visit with him for a few hours at the most, and then he’ll head back to Texas.” I tugged at his elbows. “Quit being such a hard ass.”
    Just for effect, he scowled a moment longer before relenting and pulling me into a hug. “I’m going to tell Dove that you’re talking like a truck driver again,” he said, rubbing his lips across the top of my head. I could feel my hair catch on his prickly beard sprouts. “She’ll take you out to the back of the barn with a switch.”
    I laughed, knowing that, at least for the moment, I’d talked him out of his irritation. Tilting my head back, I kissed the bottom of his chin. The whiskers felt like little needles on my lips. “If you don’t tell her, I promise I’ll make it worth your while when we get home Sunday night.”
    He bent down and whispered something in my ear. I leaned back in his arms and poked him in the chest. “Chief, it’ll take more than you not ratting on my bad language to get that.”
    He laughed and rubbed his stubble up and down my neck.
    “Stop it,” I said, pushing him away. “Geez Louise, I’ll have to buy calamine lotion by the gallon if this keeps up.”
    “I promise I’ll keep my thoughts and feelings to myself. All I have to say is, ex-relative or not, he’d better keep himself squeaky clean while he’s in my city.”
    At ten o‘clock curfew that first night, the men gathered at the front porch and sang “Good Night, Ladies” as they had at every Thanksgiving gathering as far back as I could remember. It was hokey, but it brought a lump to my throat to see my new husband and his son in the back row, struggling with the words.
    After the men retired to their respective bunkhouses, trailers, and tents, I proceeded to give my aunts and girl cousins the details about the meeting between Gabe and my former brother-in-law. I knew better than to try to hold back with this nosy crowd. They’d beat it out of me with their spatulas and knitting